


roses

by jaimelanniser



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12014103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimelanniser/pseuds/jaimelanniser
Summary: the most beautiful girl in the tourney





	roses

“Sansa!”  


Sansa turned around at the voice calling her name, her lips widening into a smile at the sight of Margaery, beautifully clad in an emerald dress with a peephole between her breasts that enhanced her bosom, and not for the first time, Sansa wondered whether she would ever feel comfortable wearing something that daring. “Lady Margaery,” she greeted her pleasantly.

The other girl walked up to her, and Sansa’s eyes were drawn to the rose in her hand. The one that Jaime Lannister had given her for being the most beautiful woman when he had won the jousting tournament.

Sansa had envied her, but mostly she had silently agreed. There was no other lady as wonderfully pretty as Margaery Tyrell.

“Come,” the older girl commanded, her voice light and pleasing but a command nonetheless, and took her hand, guiding her away from the crowds towards one of the tents used during the jousting.  


The flap opened for them with a gentle push and fell shut behind them, effectively leaving them alone. The sunlight was streaming through the material of the tent overhead, but they were still cast in shadow.

Margaery’s eyes seemed to glint playfully, and she stepped up close to her. “I came to give you this,” she told her, holding out the rose.

Sansa felt herself flush pink, her lips parting in surprise as she reached out to take the rose, careful not to prick her fingers on the thorns. “But Ser Jaime gave it to  _you_ ,” she reminded her, confused. It smelled sweet, similar to Margaery herself, who always smelled of flowers.

“Well, he was most incorrigibly mistaken,” the other girl retorted, a wicked smile on her lips. She lifted her hand up to Sansa’s face, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “You are the prettiest maiden for miles.”  


Awed and flattered and still red, Sansa ducked her eyes before glancing up at her. She was so close, she could count her eyelashes, long and elegant. “That really isn’t true…”

But Margaery moved her forefinger to Sansa’s lips, pressing down on them. “It is to me.” Without waiting another beat, she leaned forward and pressed her own lips to the corner of Sansa’s mouth, a ghost of a kiss.

And just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone, in a wave of green and roses.


End file.
